Levy McGarden Likes It Heavy Metal
by lunarism
Summary: "'Happy birthday, bookworm,' he growls, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me inside the storeroom. My spine digs into the wood but I don't care because he's kissing me so hard. This is the birthday present I expected least, and the one I wanted to most." Gajeel/Levy, as lemony as you can get.


**A/N:** My first Gajeel/Levy fic would be smut, wouldn't it? These two take up way more room in my mind than is reasonable, but the upside is that you guys get stuff like this. Oh, the ideas pop music puts into an innocent girl's brain...(the song in question for inspiring this little fic is Ke$ha's "Die Young" - buries face in hands).

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**Levy McGarden Likes It Heavy Metal**

Fairy Tail is notorious for two reasons: breaking things, and throwing the craziest parties in Fiore. Cana and Makarov are engaged in a drinking contest of magnificent proportions at the bar; Natsu and Gray brawl in a corner, inciting the wrath of Erza's Purgatory Armour. "That's where you two are going if you don't cut it out this minute," she warns, eyes glinting. And in the centre of the guildhall, the tables have been hastily shoved aside so we can dance. Apparently the Raijinshuu are also a band. And they aren't half bad, either. The drums rumble through the room, layered with riffs of guitar and bass and punctuated by Evergreen's indistinguishable lyrics.

I sway to the music, fingertips buzzing from a few sips of alcohol. Any more and I might just keel over in the middle of my own birthday party. Jet asks me to dance, then Droy asks me to dance, and then Jet wants to dance again, and of course I say yes. My teammates are really sweet, and I know I should be having fun with everyone here, loud music and broken windows and the banner that reads HAPPY 18TH BIRTHDAY LEVY heavily singed.

Jet asks me something as he spins me around, but I don't hear. Instead, my eyes scan the crowd nonchalantly, like they have been all night. I see everyone I know here. Only one person is missing, and what I'm looking for is the glint of metal studs catching the light. I don't see him anywhere.

"What did you say, Jet?"

"Oh, nevermind, Levy, it's not important," he says, blushing. He's flustered, and I'm a little bothered by it. I guess everyone knows he has a crush me, and I guess everyone thinks we'll end up together since we're on the same team and always have been. And he's sweet, really. But sweet doesn't get me off.

I like growled curse words and I like hands that can rip apart metal and bodies alike. I like piercings and I like rough around the edges, rough enough to scare everyone away. But I'm not scared of Gajeel Redfox. He's proven himself a friend enough times for that, though for some reason nobody else can see it. And I can't get his rare smiles out of my head.

Here's a secret. I sometimes imagine those curse words growled in my ear with those hands all over my body. I bet you'd never in a million years think you'd hear something like that from me. But there's a lot that people don't know about me, really. Like the fact that I'm an utter idiot, because Gajeel is a Dragon Slayer and I'm a bookworm. I'm not scared of Gajeel Redfox, but I am scared that I'll never get over the dumb butterflies and get it in my head that he will never have feelings for me.

It's my eighteenth birthday, and everyone's here but him. I thought we were at least friends, if nothing else. Tears prick my eyes and I tell Jet I'm tired and need a break from dancing.

"Do you want a drink or something?" he offers.

"No, that's okay, I'm just going to go take a breather. I'll be back in a minute."

I hurry up the stairs to the second level and slip down one of the empty hallways. The bassline of another rock song sends vibrations through the floorboards. Don't cry, stupid. I push into one of the storerooms, trapping my tears under my eyelashes.

"Oh!" Lucy shrieks. I look up, and she's twined around Loke, the two flushed and panting. "Uh, uh Levy, hi, we'll just, uh, leave." Loke gives me a small wave before Lucy grabs his hand and drags him out of the room, determinedly staring at the floor. I lean back against the doorframe and try not to think about Lucy and Loke, and everyone else, because they all have someone to belong to. The only person I want to belong to would never even consider me a possibility.

The creak of a floorboard prompts my eyes open. Gajeel is leaning over me, propped against the dooframe with one hand. I let out an involuntary squeak.

"Happy birthday, bookworm," he growls, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me inside the storeroom. He slams the door shut, lifts me up, and pins me against it. My spine digs into the wood but I don't care because he's kissing me so hard I can't breathe. This is the birthday present I expected least, and the one I wanted most.

I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and I'm melting. He bites my lips and runs his tongue along mine and who would have thought that Levy McGarden liked it rough. But hey, there are a lot of things that people don't know about me. I squirm against his hips, accidentally, then on purpose because it feels so good. He snarls as I writhe against him, he's hard and I'm still melting. We break apart to catch our breath, and he glares at me. Heavy breathing in time with the bassline, heartbeats in sync with the drums.

"I didn't think…you'd ever…want me," I pant.

"Why the hell wouldn't I, shrimp? Now shut up and let me fuck you."

And there's no way I'm protesting that.

He drags my dress off over my head and I don't care that my favourite item of clothing is ripped in seven places because his hands are on my breasts. He kisses and bites his way down my neck to my chest, taking one of the peaks into his mouth. He sucks hard, running his tongue across and grazing the tip with his teeth. Every second I expect him to let up, and every second he doesn't I writhe harder. I trail my fingertips down his back, across his shoulders, up the back of his neck and into his hair. Along the way, I prick my fingers on the spikes embedded in his skin, I circle around the metal rings and trace the smooth studs. They're fascinating. Almost as fascinating as his mouth on my breast or the way he's pressing up between my legs and nudging my clit with his movements. I never thought I'd be moaning like this, pinned up against a wall by a Dragon Slayer. This isn't romance, this isn't chivalry, these are raw hormones and thrusts in time to heartbeats, in sync with drums. And there's nothing I want more.

Flowery words don't mean a thing when you already know the answer to the uncertainty breathing in the back of your mind. There's no room for that uncertainty now, not with the noises we're making and the blood rushing in our ears. I don't want a boy to tell me he loves me, I want a dragon who's sure I already know.

The friction between my legs is all I can register, the heat of it, and his hardness. His mouth leaves my breast, and he catches my complaint in a harsh kiss. I let him overwhelm my body and dominate my mouth, I like it that way and I'm pretty sure all my muscles have turned to jelly anyway. Gajeel's not treating me like glass, and I'm so grateful. I'm not a tiny china doll. I may not be big, and I may not be powerful, but I can handle anything. He's the only person who's cared enough to realise I'm more than what I look like.

His hands roam, scratching, bruising, dragging coarsely across my bare skin, raising goosebumps and leaving heat in their wake. He thrusts his hips, rough, his tongue mirroring the motion. I'm no longer melting. I am a puddle. My whimper is the only permission he needs.

He tugs off my underwear, unbuttons his trousers, and pulls down his boxers within the space of three seconds, and if I wasn't so preoccupied with being a puddle, I would have been impressed. Hard muscle pierced with cold studs, he rams into me. When he breaks through I scream, it hurts so badly but it feels so good. Thank god he doesn't let it stop him, thank god he keeps going because he's too big and I'm too small and I'm not sure how it's possible he even fits but thank god he does. I bury my face in his neck as he pummels into me.

"God, you're so fucking tight," he groans.

I'm ripping apart, I'm finding it hard to breathe, I'm gritting my teeth. It's too much. Too much want, too much need, too much bassline, too much heat. Sensory overload has a whole new meaning now. And when I think I can't take it anymore, Gajeel grips my hair and forces my head back to suck forcefully on the pressure point behind my jaw.

This is my limit. This is where I break.

My vision blurs and every muscle in my body tenses. I grab frantically at Gajeel. He wraps a strong arm around my waist. I clench around him, and the overwhelmingly sweet ache is a sucker punch to the lungs. A hoarse yell rips from my throat and I'm not really sure what happens next, a few more thrusts and his release inside of me, pulling out, gently setting me down.

"My dress is ripped," I manage.

He takes off his t-shirt and helps me pull it over my head. It reaches my knees. I try to stand, but my legs give way and I crumple. Gajeel catches me before I hit the floor.

"Whoa, careful there, bookworm," he says, scooping me up in his arms.

I giggle. It's so absurd, so wonderfully absurd, all of it.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. _Nothing!_"

"So, I better not see you dancing with anyone else down there at your party, bookworm. You're mine now." My heartbeat stutters and I catch my breath.

"If I can't walk, how do you expect me to dance?" I squeak out.

"Oh. Fair point ya got there. In that case," he grins wickedly, "I'll just have to fuck you until you can't remember your own name."

Truthfully, by the time he's kissing me again, I've already half forgotten.


End file.
